Hannibal is a dangerous serial killer in Louisiana , suddenly fascinated with a unlikely cop: Will Graham. Guilt, empathy, murder and a dangerous growing obsession between the two murder husbands.
(Smut scene is chapter 9 Love Crime, close to the en...
Cold. Numb. Broken. Will was standing in the middle of the dark parts of his messy mind palace. He did not have any control on weather or not he visits these unpleasant rooms, or the things his fear-fuelled imagination shows him. It was all out of his control, the lines of reality and fiction blurring together with the constant thoughts of murder swimming up from the subconscious, into the fore-front of his mind. Darkness. He was stranded in it, pale, naked and alone - no, not alone. There was someone lying on the ground in front of him, her pale skin was stained red with wounds spotted all around her, the abused body rising into the air soundlessly.
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Will's hands were stained red, the silver curved blade of his Linoleum knife glimmered in his hand. He felt powerful. A quite sense of harmonious calm washed over him, pride and madness overcoming the human being he once was; but something fought back. Waves of dread and emotion weighed in on his other half, fighting the part of him who was a heartless monster. The war between his emotions and madness was tearing his physical being apart, screaming anguish into the blackened sky, his face contorting into that of a beast's, pain, pain, pain...
Will woke up screaming, sweat and tears drenched him cold as he panted. His anxiety was high and his breathing was difficult to control, the thin hospital gown stuck annoyingly to his skin; stripping it off without second thought, throwing it to the ground and wrapping his covers around him like a make-shift cloak, (the fabric pressing against his back comforted him.) Shaky, he turned on his bedside lamp in order to bring some form of illumination. The dark parts of the room bothered him too much. Will got up from his sweat-stained bed with a grunt, putting on slippers and shuffling out the door. Looking down the gloomy corridors on each side, he saw no night nurses, so he gripped tight to the blanket around him and proceeded to shuffle towards a door for storage/cleaning supplies. Clothes was on his mind, searching random boxes of cardboard for a 'Lost & Found' under terrible lighting and chemical smells. Finally, luck was on his side when Will pulled out a old box filled with random scraps of clothing.
He exited that cupboard wearing a light blue flannel shirt, with trousers held up by a brown leather belt, all accompanied with shoes his size. He'd also picked out a dark green ripped jacket that smelt like men's cologne, which he hung around his shoulders protectivley. The reason he had the sudden need to have clothing of his own was because his nightmares had been making him feel out of control these last 3 weeks. His wound was healing slow, trapping him in that bed for too long. He needed to feel in control again, needed to distract himself from the constant fears and nightmares he had in the dead of nights. He missed his dogs so much... The only company he was pleased to have was Dr. Lecter's, discussing crime scenes with him made the burden of profiling so much easier by some miracle reason.
As Will wondered back into his little room, he was greeted by Dr. Lecter's maroon eyes at a seat by his bedside. "There you are," the Doctor smiled. "I wondered where you'd run off to. Feeling restless?" Will shuffled to sit at the edge of his bed. "I feel liquid... like I'm spilling... I feel unstable, Doctor. I can't stay here much longer. " his voice was monotone. Will knew Lecter was analysing him, he had learned over time to never underestimate how much Hannibal could read off of a man; especially him. "If you'd like to, I can take you to visit my home. You've rested long enough for it to be relatively safe for you to take a walk, but it's clear that you've already discovered that... I could make you dinner, pour you a drink and get you back by morning. How does that sound?" It was an interesting offer, thats for sure. Hannibal was very kind to volunteer to help him feel better, and without realizing it he was already nodding in agreement. "It's decided then; shall we?" Hannibal stood and outstretched his arm to offer it to Will. He accepted it. Leaning onto his new friend as they both walked through the empty hospital, Will couldn't help but notice the scent of Dr. Lecter: he smelt of old parchment, fine wine and warm leather. It was pleasing to Will's senses in a way he couldn't yet explain. Hannibal's arm was strong and steady, his thin cotton shirt cloaking what felt like perfectly toned muscles. Will wondered why he had noticed that...
